London Overtures
by RositaLG
Summary: Post 3x8. A London reunion smutlet.


A/N: Hello, Miss Fisher fandom! This foray into new realms would have never happened without Dispatch22705 and Sunsetdreamer, who are the only two fic writers in the world that I cannot deny. They snuck up on me with fic recs and Tumblr posts and before I knew it, I was writing this little smutty ficlet. I hope you enjoy!

OOOOO

Jack set down his luggage and looked around at his dark hotel room. He was exhausted, dirty, and in desperate need of a drink. Still, he had finally arrived in London and suddenly, nothing short of the apocalypse could stop him from seeing Miss Phryne Fisher tonight.

He unpacked and bathed quickly, throwing on his least wrinkled suit, combing his still wet hair, but not bothering with much else. His hotel was just a few blocks from her door and he knew a walk would do him good, even at the late hour.

There was a time when he would have used the time to prepare a speech, or go over scenarios in his head, but now he knew better. She was too unpredictable to prepare for.

Jack paused as her house came into view, having a moment of doubt as he realized that this was the final step, the one that he could never take back. Still, he should have thought of that before he left the Southern Hemisphere. He made his way quietly up the back and tapped lightly on the door. A light flickered on as his co-conspirator, her butler, opened it quietly.

"Good evening, sir." He was already in his pajamas and robe, but he was still a professional.

"Good evening."

"You'll find Miss Fisher on the second floor, last door on the right. She's already gone to bed."

"Thank you." Jack said honestly. "It's not every day that we mere mortals get to surprise the Honourable Miss Fisher."

"No, sir." The butler grinned and nodded him towards the staircase.

Jack paused at the foot of the stairs. "I'm not going to find anyone else...?" He clarified as he pointed up the staircase.

"Not to my knowledge, sir. No." He said seriously. Jack gave a nod of appreciation, understanding the need for the butler's provisional statement. He tiptoed up the stairs.

He could see from the crack beneath her door that her lights were already off so he turned her door handle silently and crept into the room. The familiar scent of Chanel No. 5 greeted him and he suddenly realized just how much he had missed it in the few weeks she had been away.

Phryne was sound asleep in bed, her silk nightgown glowing in the pale moonlight. He smiled at the messy sight of her on her stomach, her left arm flung over the side of the bed, hanging in a near perfect right angle off the mattress. The strap of her nightgown was falling down around her shoulder and he fought the urge to push it back into position. Just as he was about to cave, her left leg joined him in the open air as her blankets were kicked aside. He snickered to himself as he realized that she was just as restless in her sleep as she was awake.

He took off his suit jacket and laid it neatly on a nearby chair. He placed a knee gingerly on her mattress and sat down so that he was facing her. He tucked a stray piece of her hair back into place as he whispered her name.

"Phryne…" She stirred. "Wake up, Phryne." He sang softly.

Her eyes flickered open a crack as she tried to see who was interrupting her beauty sleep. She frowned in confusion as she saw him.

"Consider yourself caught, Miss Fisher." His low voice rumbled as Phryne finally realized what was happening.

"Jack." She exclaimed breathlessly as she sat up. "How did you…?" She didn't give him time to respond, already forsaking the rest of the question and moving straight to climbing on top of his lap and kissing him hello.

"Someone owed me a favor." He informed her. "They just happened to be a pilot."

"Must have been some favor." She murmured as she looked at him again.

"Oh, it really was." He assured her before trying to kiss her again.

"Wait," she pulled away, "did you break in?"

"Oh no, your staff were all too eager to help pull one over on you. Frankly, I'd be concerned."

"Traitors." She grinned as she placed a hand on his chest. They paused for a moment, just staring into each other's eyes. "You're here. In London." She finally said. "In my bed." She added as she raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic nature of his actions.

"Mm." He agreed. "I was half-expecting to find an acrobat or cowboy or some other wildly inappropriate gentleman in here with you."

"This is London, Jack." Her tone suggested a higher level of social behavior. "Besides, Tom is an actor. He couldn't stay past supper; he had rehearsal in the morning."

Jack knew that she was testing him, waving that red flag again to see if she could make him jealous. Still, it was in Jack's best interest to let her win this round. He playfully flipped her over in mock jealousy, pinning her underneath him. He stared down at her pleased face, wanting to kiss some sense into her.

"I just flew halfway around the world for you." He reminded her. "And he couldn't even stay beyond his free meal?" He tsked and shook his head. "Clearly, London has no idea what to do with you."

"And you do?" She countered encouragingly, rubbing her foot up the back of his calf.

"I have a few ideas." He replied surely. The electricity between them grew exponentially and he was suddenly feeling too clothed. Phryne seemed to agree. She ran her hands down his chest and paused at the buttons on his vest. She looked up at him and when he gave no pause, she flicked each button open. He sat back on his heels and removed the garment. She sat up and pulled slowly on his tie until it was loose enough to pull over his head.

"Keep undressing." She encouraged. "I've been saving something for you."

"Oh come now, Miss Fisher. We both know that isn't true." He whispered dryly, which earned him a soft bite on his earlobe in response.

"I'll be right back." She kissed him the promise and headed for her closet before disappearing. He got out of bed and made it down to his underwear before she reappeared totally naked, aside from the most scandalously sheer negligee he had ever seen. (And he had raided brothels.) His brain short-circuited at the sight and he was certain that his immediate arousal was the reason for her smirk.

"Do you like it?" She asked, already knowing the answer. He gave an uneasy nod as she made her way over to him.

"I hoped you might." She grinned. "Since you've seen most of my...assets, over the years, I figured there's no harm in at least wrapping them well. Although, I had almost given up the hope of ever wearing it." He swallowed hard before trying to speak, wanting to be sure that his voice wouldn't betray him.

"How long have you had it exactly?" He asked, wanting to know just how long he had been missing out on this opportunity.

"Awhile." She offered coyly as her hands began to undress him. His long fingers wrapped around her wrists and held them firm, refusing to let her change the subject. "You're going to think me awful." She warned him but he still didn't move. "I bought it after Guy's engagement party."

That made sense. He remembered the tension of that night well. How dangerous her tempting had felt in that moment, with his new freedom to do whatever sordid thing he wished, and oh, how he had wished...

"So why do you look so guilty?" He wondered out loud.

"I got it to...celebrate your divorce." She confessed guiltily.

His eyes widened for only a moment before a slow smile spread across his lips. She looked, dare he say it, flustered? It was adorable.

"I didn't want to assume. I knew that you would probably need some time, but I just...wanted to be prepared, just in case." She blushed slightly.

"Miss Fisher," he shook his head slowly in awe of her endless surprises, "you are a wonder." He wrapped a hand along the back of her neck and ran another along her bare hip and to the small of her back and pulled her in for a long, slow, wet kiss as the negligee fell behind her. He slipped out of the last remains of his clothing and laid her gently out on the bed.

Their hands and mouths moved slowly, exploring every piece of flesh they had previously been denied. When he finally took her with his mouth, he thought he might pass out. The taste of her, the soft tugging of her hands through his hair, the confidence-boosting noises she was making in conjunction with his name, they were almost too much to bear. Somehow in worshiping her, he was the one who managed to feel like a god.

As soon as she could manage it, he was on his back and she was crawling down his body.

"Not yet." He pulled her back up to him and he could have sworn he saw her pout. "Right now, I need to be inside you." He confessed more desperately than he would have liked, but it had been a very long wait, and he was taking no chances. Phryne understood. She took him inside her and stilled, waiting until he was ready. Jack's eyes fluttered shut at the warm and welcome sensation. It had been far too long since he had experienced it, but something told him it wasn't the celibacy that made it feel even better than he remembered.

"Tell me what you want, Jack." She requested in a voice that she probably could have been arrested for. Before he could answer, she began moving over him in a rhythm that had already rendered her previous instruction impossible. He leaned forward, grabbing her hips tight, and thrust deeper into her. She gasped at the unexpectedly bold move. She may have been on top, but she was sorely mistaken if she thought that he was going to passively let her have her way with him.

Phryne clutched the headboard behind him for leverage as he worked her over from below until they were both utterly annihilated, their bodies convulsing wildly. They collapsed in an exhausted daze onto their respective parts of the bed and Jack took a few deep breaths to calm his dangerously racing pulse.

"And you think I'm trouble, _Detective Inspector_." Phryne panted as she tried to reconcile the work side of him with his actions of the last half hour.

"Oh, you most definitely are." He promised, giving her fair share of the blame, but she heard the underlying fear in his voice. She propped herself up on her elbow and stared at him for quite a while. He let her take her time, wondering what she was thinking about that had her looking so serious.

"Jack, whatever we have between us, it's not…"

His heart stopped and his mind went into overdrive as she searched for the right word: real, permanent, serious?

"I want you to know that it's not just a dalliance for me." She continued. "I may not be as conventional as you want me to be when it comes to traditional family life, but I do love you, Jack Robinson. And I made a choice, long ago, to be with you, and only you. No more cowboys and acrobats, not as long as you'll have me." She promised.

Jack had somehow managed to keep his external features stoic, despite his violently beating heart.

"No more cowboys and acrobats? Is that your idea of a romantic overture?" He asked with a squint as he began inching closer to her face.

"Would you like me to improve on it?" She asked tenderly.

"I'd like to see you try." He whispered before kissing her madly.


End file.
